


Scheherezade

by facetofcathy



Series: 2008 Kink Bingo Blackout [25]
Category: Stargate Atlantis
Genre: 1000-3000 words, Branding, Community: kink_bingo, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2008-08-11
Updated: 2008-08-11
Packaged: 2017-10-04 00:45:08
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,722
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24111
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/facetofcathy/pseuds/facetofcathy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>I will tell you a story...</p>
            </blockquote>





	Scheherezade

"Let me do it," Ronon said firmly. "The pain will be nothing to me." Ronon gestured with his well-inked arm. He saw relief flash in Rodney's eyes, and he was satisfied that he had achieved his goal.

John was shaking his head, repeating, "No, no. You're not touching him." He had been saying pretty much nothing else for a while now. Teyla was hanging off his arm, restraining him from doing anything too impulsive and trying, and failing for once, to shush him.

"It is not common for another to substitute for the transgressor," the priest frowned thoughtfully. "It is acceptable to us if you swear to be responsible for the transgressor's actions from this day forward. The glory of the sacrifice of pain will be yours. His sins will be washed in your agony."

Ronon glared down at the priest, the guy was looking a bit worked up by all the talk of pain. He was one of those. Ronon smiled sourly. Rodney's enjoyment of the occasional sting of a strap or a hand was far removed from this little man's frothing excitement at the prospect of inflicting real pain and damage. "Let's get on with it," Ronon said loudly enough to be heard over John's ranting.

The priest bowed and waved Ronon towards the ceremonial altar where the rites of pain were to be performed. Another man was busy in front of the altar heating up a brazier and checking his tools. Ronon started pulling his shirt out of his pants.

Rodney stepped forward, moving away from the two guards who had been holding him. He placed a hand on Ronon's chest, and Ronon looked down at him. Rodney looked terrified and very, very, certain. "No," was all he said. John was still hollering out his objections and Rodney rolled his eyes and turned to John and snapped, "Shut up. Seriously, John, just shut up and, oh never mind. Teyla, sit him down. Sit _on_ him if you have to. We are not serving up sacrificed Sheppard today. He'll just have to get over it. Actually," Rodney turned his angry gaze back to Ronon. "We're not serving sacrificed Ronon either." Rodney turned to the priest and snapped his fingers at the man impatiently. "You there, The Pegasus de Sade. These are my sins, so-called I might add, but fine. You want to mutilate my flesh for your own titillation and call it religion? Great. Let's do it. Where do I sign up for your whacked-out cult?"

"Rodney…" John yelled as Teyla dragged him down onto the nearest bench.

Ronon kept his eyes on Rodney. The man was afraid. Of course he was; he was always afraid of something. He was sure though, Ronon would bet on it. Sure he could take the punishment he likely didn't really deserve. "Sheppard," Ronon yelled. "He means it. Shut up and let the man do what he needs to do."

John subsided, and Teyla sat close against him gripping his arm as if she needed his support.

Rodney was grumbling while taking off his vest and jacket. The priest insisted he remove his shirt, and then he made Rodney sit in a large heavy wooden chair that sat upon the altar.

The priest pulled out a length of rough looking rope, and Ronon stepped forward without hesitation. "No," he said. "I will do that." The priest looked at Ronon and backed away from whatever he saw in his face. Ronon hoped it was the full measure of the hatred he felt for the priest and his foolish superstitions and the stupid people of this planet who hadn't killed him yet. Ronon dug in his inner coat pocket and found two strips of soft tanned leather. He stepped close to Rodney and dropped to his knees. Rodney tried to smile at him and only succeeded in looking a bit sick. Ronon took one of Rodney's wrists in his hands and lightly kissed the skin over his hammering pulse. He positioned Rodney's arm against the arm of the chair and bound it tightly with the leather. He repeated with the other arm. When he was done he ran his hand lightly over the skin of Rodney's forearm. "You will be fine. You can do this."

Ronon stood and stepped back a pace. He knew Rodney needed a distraction, but he didn't think these priests would let him stay kneeling at Rodney's feet and distract him the fun way. Ronon needed to capture his attention and quickly. He smiled when the idea came to him. He glanced over at Teyla once to make sure she still had John occupied. John had freed his arm from her grasp but only so he could wrap her tight against his side, as if he was holding her up while he glared death at every priest and guard in the temple. Rodney was staring at the man working over the brazier, watching as he poked at the coals with a long metal rod.

Ronon stepped to his left and cleared his throat. "Rodney," he said firmly. "Look at me. Listen to me. I have something to tell you - a story. Listen to me, and look only at me."

Rodney turned towards him and nodded, eyes flickering in understanding.

Ronon grinned at him. "When I was just a small boy, only this tall," Ronon held his hand up above his waist and grinned a little. Rodney smiled weakly back.

The man with the brazier selected his first tool and thrust it into the hot coals.

Ronon raised his voice and tried to affect the style of a traditional Satedan orator. "When I was a young boy, Mikan Lous wrote his great work _The Warrior and The Scholar_. I read it for the first time when I was still very young, and then I read it again when I was older and could understand a little more. I loved it so much." Ronon grinned ruefully. He had been a silly boy and thought Lous had held the answers to all life's questions. "I have tried to be as great a warrior as The Warrior Livan because I knew I could never be a scholar like Lekne." Ronon watched the man twirl his implements in the hot coals out of the corner of his eye.

He had read Earth books and seen their movies and he knew that they believed a story was only what the author made of it that it ended with it's first telling. He would need to explain the Satedan way. "It was our way to take the labour of someone as great as Lous and embellish it, make it more. It's called dramatic transformation. The transformers travelled our towns and cities and performed many great works for the people, but I always liked transformations of Lous work the best. During the war, special groups performed for the Defence Forces in our barracks; they liked to do something a little bit more suited to soldiers than what the other groups did. A few days before the final battle, a special group came to our barracks to entertain us. They performed a transformation called _A Respite From the War_."

Rodney looked confused, but he was looking only at Ronon and that was the most important thing. The man pulled one of his implements from the brazier and it glowed red-hot. Ronon could see the end was shaped in a sort of half circle. The man turned his head and looked at Rodney. Ronon could see he was about to move, so he hastened to speak. He opened with the traditional words. "I will tell you a story…" The man stepped towards Rodney as Ronon began the tale:

> Livan had one thought only. He needed to see Lekne, to touch him, and to smell the ink and dust that was always a part of him. The battles could wait for one day, wait for Livan to remember why he fought. Livan paused at the threshold and closed his eyes. He could see Lekne in his mind's eye, crouched over his desk, lamp casting a yellow glow onto the pages, ink staining his fingers. He would be grumbling to himself and muttering as his pen scratched over the pages.

The man brought the half moon of blazing metal against Rodney's skin, and Rodney screamed at the pain and in horror of the cause of the pain. The man had chosen the clean expanse of flesh on Rodney's right bicep for his work. Ronon stood still, never taking his eyes off of Rodney's until the man removed the metal and Rodney's scream became a whimpering plea. He brought out another tool, this one tipped with a small circle, and he brought it to bear against Rodney's flesh. Rodney thrashed against his bonds and flinched away from the smoke that curled up to his nose. The stink of burning meat was sickening.

Ronon pitched his voice to carry as if he were on a battlefield and resumed his tale:

 

> He would be grumbling to himself and muttering as his pen scratched over the pages. The dust from the paper would ring his head, dancing in the lamplight. Livan would make a noise and Lekne would turn and they would gaze upon each other again. Livan opened his eyes and smiled as he pushed open the door.
> 
>  
> 
> The house was silent. Lekne's desk sat empty, cleared of all papers and inkpots. Its cleanliness made Livan's chest ache. Livan strode across the room and touched a finger to the bare wood; he closed his eyes tightly and stood so still as to seem made of stone. When he had himself in hand, not a tremble to betray him, he crossed the room and set his hand on the door handle. He turned the handle and pushed the door slowly open.

Ronon paused again while Rodney screamed and sobbed as a diamond shape was added below the circle.

> The bedchamber within was lit by the glow of a lamp. Light as soft and yellow as Livan had expected to see illuminating Lekne at his work gilded the body on the bed with warmth and life. Livan made a small sound of surprise.
> 
>  
> 
> _For fuck's sake, Livan. What the hell took you so long? Did you stop to make a sandwich before you came in here? My ass is starting to get cold._ Lekne threw a glare over his shoulder, and Livan glowered back at him.

Your desk was actually clean for the first time in recorded history. I thought you'd finally run off with Ysabel like you keep threatening to do. Livan dropped his pack onto the floor.

I only threaten to do that when you sharpen your damn sword in the bedroom. Metal shavings and naked skin do not go together. Get over here and do something about my cold ass, you big brute.

> Livan kept his eyes on the healthy swell of Lekne's ass while he stripped to his skin.

Rodney sobbed when the next burning brand was placed against his skin. His voice was raw when he spoke, "Well come on, so far I like this story. Don't quit when it just gets good."

Ronon smiled, heart full of approval. It was enough to keep him rooted to the spot and still the urge to rip the heads off the priest and his torturer.

> When Livan was naked, he crawled up the bed and placed a kiss on one rounded curve of flesh. He rubbed his beard against the soft skin and Lekne yelped in appreciation. Livan licked up the crack of his ass once and then twice. The taste of Lekne, his scent, drove all other thoughts from Livan's mind. The battles, past and future, were forgotten as he mapped out the contours of Lekne's back. He used his lips, his teeth, his tongue to travel up to the wide shoulders, soft skin over taut flesh driving him mad with desire. He sank his teeth into the knot of muscle at the base of Lekne's neck. Lekne cried out, pain and pleasure twined together in his voice. Livan sucked against the flesh, he needed his mark on Lekne, needed all to see his passion for this man. He needed all to know that Lekne was his.

Ronon barely had to pause; Rodney's voice was too weak now to do much more than whimper. The man added another half moon to the row of symbols burned into Rodney's flesh. Ronon had to clear his throat before he could summon the proper storyteller's voice. His fists ached from being clenched at his sides. He could taste the blood of the priest on his tongue.

> Lekne moaned underneath him; Livan was spread out over his body now, pressing him, pressing Lekne down into the bed, holding him. Lekne's hair was tickling against Livan's nose and the scent of him, the smell of him filled Livan's mind again. Livan feared he would break Lekne's skin with his teeth; he feared he could not stop himself, the passion was in him so strongly. He wrenched his mouth away, and he whispered Lekne's name. Lekne surprised him, heaving Livan up with a flex of his strong arms and legs against the bed. Livan rolled away, laughing and tumbling over onto his back. Lekne flowed over him, powerful and graceful here in his nakedness in a way he never was outside their room. He pinned Livan's arms to the bed and took his mouth. Livan gave in to Lekne, gave himself completely. Lekne's hands were everywhere, leaving longing behind as they trailed across his skin.
> 
> Livan believed he had never been so aroused, not even their first few times when Lekne had kissed him but allowed no further touch. Livan needed Lekne, needed his hands and his mouth. _Lekne, Lekne. I must have you. Please I…_

The man pulled out the circle tipped tool again. He surprised Ronon when he turned and nodded once. This then was the last one. Ronon waited out the last of Rodney's sobs. The man cleared up his tools and left the temple, nodding once to Ronon again. The priest surged forward to see the mutilation that had been done at his order. Ronon stepped forward and pushed him aside. He knelt again at Rodney's feet and carefully whipped the tears away from Rodney's eyes. He lowered his voice so only Rodney could hear the ending to his story.

> In this Lekne was always merciful. He lifted his head and smiled down at Livan, a smile full of promises of an end to strife and a life of pleasures. He slid down Livan's body, and he placed his mouth upon Livan, and Livan lived forever in that pleasure, in that joy, all battles forgotten.

Ronon let John come forward and pull the bindings loose from Rodney's wrists. He let Teyla soothe the thwarted priest. When they were done, he let John slip his arm around Rodney and help him to his feet. John left Rodney leaning heavily on Teyla long enough to walk up to Ronon. John looked wild with the need for violence; he could surely taste the blood of the priest on his tongue as well. He pulled Ronon to him and kissed him fiercely, a kiss full of pride and anger. Ronon kissed him back, a kiss full of promises. He would give John the chance to taste blood when they had time to be alone.

John returned to Rodney's side and took most of Rodney's weight as they walked slowly out of the town and towards the gate. Ronon picked up Rodney's discarded clothing and followed. Teyla dropped back to walk beside him as he had expected her to do.

"I have heard many transformations of _The Warrior and The Scholar_. The tale is rightly famous on many worlds," she said.

Ronon nodded and kept his eyes on Rodney's back where he stumbled along a few paces ahead.

"I do not think I have ever heard any transformation with quite that characterization for Lekne before."

Ronon glanced over to see her smiling at him. "No? It seems to me that Livan might like him that way."

"Yes," she said, and laid her hand on his arm. "I believe I do as well."


End file.
